The Fated Sky

by Mary Robinette Kowal

  His jaw dropped. “Puta que pariu. I knew that. I had just … Why the hell am I taking it down?”

  I set the bowl on the counter and turned to face him fully. “It’s not the same. I wasn’t flying in atmosphere.”

  “Yeah, but—you still have more flight time on it than I had on the simulator.”

  Being a pilot, the urge to agree was very strong. I did have more flight time. I wanted to go down to Mars so badly I could taste it. But I also knew why I wasn’t. I gestured at my binder on the table. “Open it.”

  Rafael rolled his eyes. “Come on, Elma…”

  “I’m serious. Can you do any of those equations?” This, right here … this was what Helen had done when she gave up her spot to me. Not that the causes were the same, but the fact of bowing to a world that you couldn’t change. She wasn’t happy about it, and I won’t pretend that I was, either, but these are the realities. “I’m staying here and doing math. But, first, pie.”

  Leonard smiled. “I do like pie.”

  “Me too. 3.14159265…” I winked at him, but I was going to make a pie. “Meanwhile … O Pilot, have you thought about what you’re going to call the lander?”

  Rafael looked down, smoothing the pages with one hand. “The Terrazas.”

  * * *

  Do you remember where you were when mankind landed on Mars? I was on the bridge of the Niña, sitting in the copilot’s seat with my pencil and paper, ready to plot. Parker sat in the seat next to me with nothing to do. We stared out the viewport and listened to the radio channels as the Terrazas entered the atmosphere of Mars.

  The rest of our crew was aboard. They would go first, and then, assuming all went well, the crew of the Pinta would descend in two weeks.

  Leonard’s voice came through clear and steady. “Our radar checks indicate 15.24 kilometers periMars. Our visual altitude checks are steadying out at about 16.15 kilometers.”

  I added that to the worksheet for the Terrazas’s descent. “Confirmed. I recommend you yaw 10 right. Then you’re Go for powered descent. Over.”

  “Confirmed Go for powered descent.”

  They had five minutes before they initiated the descent. Until that point, they were just in a lower orbit than we were. Beside me, Parker flexed his hands on his knees, as if he wanted to reach for the controls himself.

  Rafael’s voice came faintly through Leonard’s microphone. “Stabilization and Control circuit breakers. DECA Gimbal AC, closed. Command Override, off. Gimbal enable. Rate Scale, 25.”

  Aside from the Red Planet filling the viewport, it was almost like being in a sim. “On my mark, 3:30 till ignition.”

  “Confirmed.”

  I watched the clock, and their position. “Mark. 3:30 till ignition.”

  “Confirmed. Thrust translation, four jets. Balance couple, on. TCA throttle, minimum. Throttle, Auto CDR. Propellant button, reset. Prop button.” Leonard’s voice was cool as he read off the checklist for Rafael. “All right. Abort/Abort Stage, reset. Att. Control, three of them to Mode Control. AGS is reading four hundred plus one.”

  In my head, I could see the cockpit of the Terrazas. They were flying with their engine forward so they could use it to slow down and had their windows pointing planetward in order to confirm their trajectory. They’d do a 180-degree yaw so they could point their radar at the surface. From there on, it would be all up to Rafael’s flying.

  I kept my pencil out anyway.

  When Rafael said, “Ignition,” Parker lifted both hands, fingers crossed.

  I watched them on our radar. “Their rate of descent looks good.”

  Parker muttered, “God. I don’t know how Mimi stood it…”

  My gaze stayed fixed on the radar, but with my free hand, I reached over and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “She knew who she was marrying.”

  “Heh.”

  Like a radio play without narration, Leonard said, “Throttle down … six plus twenty-five, throttle down.”

  I bit my lip. They were going to reduce thrust six minutes twenty-five seconds into the burn, which made sense. I just wanted something to do. It was the longest six minutes and twenty-five seconds of my life.

  “Throttling down. Fifteen-hundred-meter altitude. Thirty point five meters per second. Attitude control is good.”

  Finally, numbers I could do something with again. It was simple enough that I could do it in my head, but I plugged them into the worksheet for safety. “You’re Go for landing. Over.”

  “Confirmed. Nine hundred fourteen at 21.3.”

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Confirmed. Go for landing. Nine hundred fourteen meters.”

  “Six hundred and ten meters. Six hundred and ten meters.”

  Parker leaned forward, as if he could see them outside the viewport. The reds and ochers scrolled underneath us. Theoretically, the Terrazas was directly below. As thin as Mars’s atmosphere was, the streak of their entry didn’t light up as much as it would have on Earth.

  “Thirty-five degrees. Thirty-five degrees. Two hundred twenty-nine meters. Coming down at seven meters per second.” Leonard could be announcing stocks rather than landing on a planet. “One hundred eighty-three meters, down at 5.8.”

  I tracked them on my sheet, not because there was anything I could do, but just so I had something to do with my hands. I traced the arc of their descent the way I used to track Parker going into orbit.

  “One hundred and seven meters, down at 1.2. We’ve got a shadow.”

  It would be different landing in an atmosphere, even a thin one, but I knew that shadow. They were nearly down.

  “Thirty point five meters, 1.1 down, 2.7 forward.”

  Kam and Florence must be staring out the windows from the back of the lander.

  “Twelve point two meters, down .76. Picking up some dust.”

  I held my breath, and I’m pretty sure Parker did too. In fact, the entire ship seemed to go silent, as if the fans had stopped blowing while we waited.

  “Contact light.”

  For the first time in the last ten minutes, we heard Rafael speak, as calm as anything. “Shutdown.”

  “Engine stop.”

  Parker let out a whoop as if he’d been holding it in since Earth. I threw my papers into the air and they floated around us in a snow globe of calculations.

  Through the speakers, I could just barely hear Florence in the background laughing with glee. Rafael’s calm must have been masking an ear-splitting grin. “Niña, this is Bradbury Base. The Terrazas has landed.”

  At the sound of their new call sign, my eyes pricked with tears. God. They had really made it.

  Parker grabbed the mic. “Glad to hear it, Bradbury. Congratulations on a beautiful landing.”

  “Bradbury, Pinta.” Behind Benkoski’s voice, I could hear the crew of the Pinta cheering. “We’re all—congratulations. Can’t wait to join you.”

  “Thanks. The view is something. It looks all red from up in the air, but some of the rocks outside look bluish.” Rafael laughed. “Leonard just rolled his eyes at my science. We’d better get busy, or he’ll start the EVA without us.”

  “Get to it. And take pictures.” Parker turned the mic off and looked over at me, grinning. Papers spun between us still. He snatched one out of the air, looking at the calculations that covered it. “You done good, York.”

  “It’s my job.”

  Parker’s grin softened into something, I don’t know … something almost fond. “I’m sorry you don’t get to go down.”

  I shrugged, looking out the window as Mars turned below me. I wanted Nathaniel to see it, and Rachel, and Thomas, and Hershel, and Helen, and everyone … “Not this time. But it won’t be my only chance.”

  When I got back to Earth, I was going to use everything in my power to get the colony ships here, full of people from every walk of life. I’d been the Lady Astronaut long enough to know how the game worked. From here on, I would be the Lady Astronaut of Mars.

  EPILOGUE


  FIRST MAN ON MARS ADDRESSES UNITED NATIONS

  Today, Dr. Leonard Flannery addressed the United Nations on the forthcoming Second Mars Expedition. Dr. Flannery will be heading the expedition to establish a colony on Mars. In his address, he urged all nations to work together peacefully to create a new home for humanity on our sister planet. This was not intended, he said, as a way to replace Earth, but rather to offer humanity new frontiers and opportunities. As a Negro, he was living proof that in space, all men were created equal, and he hoped to serve as an inspiration to future generations.

  He was joined by his copilot, Dr. Elma York, who rose to fame in the early days of the space program as the “Lady Astronaut.” She wore a smart blue ensemble, with a string of pearls at the neck.

  I am landing on Mars today. The Esther shudders around me as atmosphere brushes over the skin of our lander. In the NavComp seat behind me, Helen calls out our approach to Mars’s surface. “On my mark, 3:30 until ignition.”

  “Confirmed 3:30.” My mouth is dry, but my hands are steady on the stick. The rest of the crew in the lander holds their tongues, but they have the same view I do, of the red surface spreading out to meet us. I pull my gaze away and watch the mission clock instead, so I’ll be ready when Helen calls it.

  “Mark. 3:30.”

  “Confirmed.” The digital numbers flick over in the countdown.

  To my left, in the copilot seat, Leonard reads out the checklist the way he had for Rafael on his first trip. “Thrust translation, four jets. Balance couple, on. TCA throttle, minimum. Throttle, Auto CDR. Propellant button, reset. Prop button … okay.”

  In response, I flick the appropriate switches. It’s like landing on the moon, and it is nothing like that, all at the same time. I am landing on Mars. The sequence of actions is familiar, but Mars’s atmosphere changes everything. It is too thin to sustain life, but it could break us up in a second.

  “All right. Abort/Abort Stage, Reset. Att. Control, three of them to Mode Control. AGS is reading four hundred plus one.”

  The remaining numbers bleed away from the countdown clock. “Ignition.” I squeeze the control, firing four of our jets.

  They kick, roaring, into life. One of the colonists behind us yelps, I presume at the sound, since we’ve experienced the seats slamming into our backsides before. Gravity grinds me into my seat and I tighten the muscles in my abdomen to keep blood in my head. Carefully, I yaw the ship over so the engines point down to the planet, and we begin our descent in earnest.

  Mars is hidden beneath us. Outside the viewport, plasma flicks past the glass. I keep my gaze split between the horizon and the altimeter. “Throttling down.”

  Leonard nods at my side. “Fifteen-hundred-meter altitude. Thirty point five meters per second.”

  I start to do the math in my head, and then jerk my attention back to the controls. I have one job on this ship, and it isn’t to do math. I am landing on Mars today.

  “Nine hundred fourteen at 21.3.”

  Behind us, Helen says, “Confirmed. You are Go for landing.”

  Which is good, because an abort would be hell on everyone at this stage—if I could even do it. I ease off the throttle more, dropping us lower toward the surface. At 305 meters, the glint of the Bradbury Base’s dome separates it from the rust of landscape.

  I am actually on track, thank God. I keep the base centered on the grid of lines that were etched into the inside of the window. Horizon level. Dropping speed, but not so fast that I don’t land us off the mark.

  “Two hundred twenty-nine meters. Coming down at 7.6 meters per second.”

  A little fast yet. I ease off further, and below us the landscape takes on texture, with rough peaks and smooth sand dunes. The transmission tower at the Bradbury beckons, but the landing pad was hidden below dust. It had been too much to hope that it would stay clear.

  The landscape scrolls beneath us, and a dark shape runs over its contours. I grin, feeling like I’m seeing an old friend. “We have a shadow.”

  “Thirty point five meters, down .9, three forward.”

  Wetting my lips, I edge us ahead until we are over where the landing pad should be. At the bottom of the window, ocher dust swirls, as if Mars is reaching up to say hello.

  “Twelve point two meters, down .73. Picking up some dust.” Leonard’s voice is as steady as if he did this every day. “There’s the pad.”

  Sure enough, the ship’s exhaust had blown the dust away, leaving a beautiful flat square, as ruddy as the rest of the landscape. I ease off the throttle and Set.

  Us.

  Down.

  The feet of the lander bump and the g-forces shift. A light flashes on the dashboard, as if our status isn’t clear. “Contact light.”

  “Shutdown.” I pull my hands off the control stick and set it to neutral. I also start to breathe again. Four switches on the control panel later, I get to say two beautiful words. “Engine stop.”

  There is still a whole checklist to get through, but we are alive. We are on Mars. Behind me, the passengers let out a collective exclamation of glee. Nathaniel’s voice carries clear through all of them. “Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu…”

  And he says he’s a terrible Jew …

  Grinning, I let myself have a full second of looking out the window at the dust blowing across the landscape under the smoky orange sky, and then duty calls. I toggle on my microphone and call the mothership. “Goddard, Bradbury Base. The Esther has landed.”

  “Congratulations, Bradbury.” Halim Malouf’s voice has a giant grin built into it. “Perfect landing.”

  “Thanks.” It was. “Happy to be down.”

  My face hurts as I unbuckle my belt. Because I am grinning like an idiot. Mars. I am on Mars. Leonard is already out of his seat, and claps me on the shoulder. “Nicely done, Elma.”

  “Thanks.” I swivel out of my chair, awkward in my Mars suit.

  Helen leans forward in her seat, one hand still holding the belt buckle. Her mouth hangs open a little as she stares out the window. As I stand, she shakes her head, blinking back tears. Catching me looking at her, she shrugs sheepishly and pats her binder of calculations. “I was looking down the whole way in.”

  I bend over her chair and give her a hug. “You’ve got time. Mission Control built in fifteen minutes for gawking.”

  Fifteen minutes for kissing … I still don’t like that song, but it offers some good suggestions. I head to the back, where the colonists are getting out of their couches and running through their own checklists. Nathaniel looks up as I come down the aisle, helmet in his hands.

  His smile could power the entire planet. Granted, there are only twenty humans on it at the moment, but still. “Nice flying, Dr. York.”

  “Why, thank you, Dr. York. Before you put that on…” I rest one hand on his wrist to keep the helmet down, and lean forward to kiss my husband.

  Honestly, I don’t care that everyone on the planet is watching.

  We are not the only married couple on the ship, and I may have sparked a bit of smooching in other colonists. Helen and Reynard are pretty adorable. I’m not sure that kissing is what Mission Control had in mind for this break, but they should have. At least they recognized that, after traveling millions of kilometers to get here, we needed fifteen minutes to be human.

  And then, we all get back to work, like the professionals we are. In short order, we have the lander secured, luggage ready to offload, and all of our suits sealed and triple-checked.

  Leonard stands at the hatch and undogs it. “Ladies and gentlemen … welcome to the Bradbury Base.”

  He swings the hatch open, and a breeze pushes amber dust into the room. I wish I could smell it. Slipping my hand into Nathaniel’s, I squeeze his glove.

  He leans over so his helmet rests against mine. With his mic off, so only I can hear him, he says, “My suit is suddenly not fitting in a specific way. I may need your help later.”

  At that, the thermostatic controls on my suit appear to fail, a
nd heat floods it. “I will do my best, as a scientist and your wife, to resolve that issue.”

  “Elma?” Leonard waves me forward. “Want to do the honors?”

  “Oh—” My face is still red from Nathaniel’s … trouble. “But you’re the mission commander.”

  He winks. “I’ve already been the first. And you are the Lady Astronaut of Mars.”

  Blinking against tears, which have enough weight to trickle down my cheeks, I duck through the hatch and balance on the top of the ladder. Mars. As far as the eye can see, the landscape rolls in dusty salmon, ochers, pinks, and flecks of deep purplish blue. Three steps down the ladder. The fourth puts my right foot on Mars.

  My feet are standing on the surface of Mars. I am on Mars.

  I am on Mars.

  And there are other people waiting to also be on Mars. I shuffle away from the ladder to make space. Somehow, a part of me had expected it to be like walking on the moon, but there’s more gravity here. The dust kicks up in clouds, held by the atmosphere, instead of just arcing in a frictionless vacuum. As much as I want to stand and just stare, there is work to be done.

  There is work to be done, on Mars.

  I head around to the side of the lander, where the cargo bay is. Reynard joins me, and we start the process of undogging the hatch. Nathaniel waves as he walks past carrying a crate toward the Bradbury Base, but that is all the time we have together for the rest of the afternoon.

  Space always sounds glamorous when I talk about it on television or the radio, but the truth is that we spend most of our time cleaning and doing maintenance. Today, we are doing that on Mars.

  We are carrying crates on Mars. We are securing tie-down straps on Mars. We are waking a base that has been dormant for four years on Mars.

  The sun creeps over the horizon as we stow the last of the crates inside the small dome of the Bradbury. Nathaniel’s team has blueprints and plans for expanding the base, but for now it is comfortably cozy for twenty. Our first order of business will be to build the second habitat so that the colonists aboard the Goddard can come down to join us.

  My work has been about getting us to the surface of Mars. Tomorrow, Nathaniel’s work begins in earnest. We have this one night where our careers are balanced against each other.